


Best Served Cold

by StonedFool (SoberJester)



Series: Fish and Honey [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Asphyxiation, Black Romance, Bondage, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dubious Consent, Kinbaku (Japanese Rope Bondage), Light Masochism, M/M, Revenge Sex, Sadism, Sexual Violence, Xeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoberJester/pseuds/StonedFool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Non-con warning added for lack of dub-con warning.)</p><p>You can't help but feel smug for what you did, but at the same time, you can't help but wonder what he's planning now that he has you incapacitated. Eridan may be somewhat incompetent sometimes, but revenge is, surprisingly, one of the things he tends to excel at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Served Cold

Consciousness hasn't even fully found you before the first sign that something is wrong hits you: a throbbing pain in your temples wakes you, and let out a sobbing moan of pain. Motioning to put your hands to your head, you find the second sign of something being wrong when something soft tightens around your wrists, halting the movement almost immediately.

Your eyes open, but no sight comes to you. That's the third sign that something is wrong.

Kicking your feet, you find them to be bound as well. Psionics often fail you when you have migraines, and almost always when you can't see where you're aiming, but you try anyway and only manage to shock yourself for your troubles. The smell of something burning and putting itself out mingles with the air, and you notice the suddenly obvious scent of salt and something flowery floating thick and stifling around you.

Panic is beginning to rise, so you thrash and assault your bindings with psionics. Your wrists and ankles burn. Long scratches down your back throb painfully. Then, memories slam back into you in a tidal wave: Eridan with his clothes ripped off, Eridan tied and folded underneath of you, Eridan gagged with his own scarf, Eridan screaming in pleasure and pain, Eridan bleeding, Eridan begging you, Eridan presenting his leaking nook to you, Eridan taking both of your bulges, Eridan taking your genetic material like the pail he is, Eridan pouring his own genetic material all over himself, Eridan choking on it, Eridan crying, soothing Eridan...

Searing pain blossoming through your skull.

You let out a whimper and press your face to your shoulder, which in its own right is actually relatively sore. You can't help but feel smug for what you did, but at the same time, you can't help but wonder what he's planning now that he has you incapacitated.

Eridan may be somewhat incompetent sometimes, but revenge is, surprisingly, one of the things he tends to excel at.

You take a deep breath. "AMPORA, YOU AQUATIC ATHHOLE, LET ME G--" As your mouth opens in an 'O', cloth is jammed between your teeth. Choking, you shake your head blindly and try to bite the culprit despite the material. "NNMGH!?"

"Calm your shit, pissblood." His voice is smug. Too smug. Almost as smug as you felt a moment ago. You try to shoot him with a psionic blast and feel fireworks snap around you, against your skin. He laughs at you. You growl darkly, fighting whatever's binding you. Probably some of his shitty, obnoxious clothing. You hope it burns. He rests his heavily jeweled against your abdominal area, which you only now register is bare. And...so is the rest of your body.

You can do about fuck all to stop him from touching you, but that isn’t going to stop you from trying.

The hand slides lower, and you immediately start fighting hard. Unlike your arms, your legs have next to no give, and your thrashing does nothing to stop his hand from moving between your legs and giving your bone sheath and nook a few condescending pats.

Trying to stay calm, you manipulate your tongues and mouth to eject the cloth gagging you. Spitting and gasping, you turn towards him. Or where you think he is. "Let me go, dumb fuck." You buck against his hand to get it off of you, but it follows you down again as you rest back against the...surprisingly comfortably material underneath of you. What. Seriously? "...Did you thteal one of the cuthioned rethting platformth the humanth made?"

He's chuckling, and then his fingers find your nook and rub it lightly. Gasping, you arch, unsure whether you want to move into or away from the touch. When the tip presses against the entrance, near where the thin membrane that splits it in half begins, you remember that Eridan is a piece of shit and try to twist away. The platform sinks beside you as he climbs on. You let out a gust of air as he drops on top of you with no fucking warning. He's not wearing anything either, from what you can feel, and he’s facing his back to you. "No more wwiggling, lowwblood." The fingers return, poking and prodding.

Panic seizes you. "ED, pleathe, it'th too thmall." He actually pauses, claws circling the entrance. You feel him shift, then the hand retreats. You relax, if only a tiny bit.

"Wwhat can you giwe me then, Sol? You ruined my clothes _and_ you humiliated me. I deserwe the right to pail you." It's the first thing he's said that wasn’t a complete insult, and you already want to hit him. What a dumbass, thinking he deserves a fucking thing after you beat his ass and took your prize. 

Clenching your nook tight, you turn your burning face to the side. "You don't detherve a fucking thing, you dumbath." The fingers return before you even finish and your entire body tenses. "You fucking athhole, anything, anything!" You just want him to get the fuck off of you.

Eridan stops, and you realize that you fucked up. "Anythin', huh?"

He's so cold on top of you. Fuck, if this is how you made him feel, you probably should go back to more traditional kismesissitude pailing. This is supposed to be based on rivalry and hate from both directions, not one at a time with the other party feeling shame and fear. You bite your lip, easily piercing multiple holes in it. You don't reply until he pokes you in the sheath. Your lip pops free as you gasp. "Y-yeah, thure."

"I can't hear you through your _thtupid lithp_." He exaggerates your lisp way out of proportion, just like he always does.

You sigh dramatically. Nevermind about shame and fear. The only thing you should be ashamed of is pailing this fucker in the first place, and maybe fear that everybody else will laugh at you when they find out. "Oh, yeth, mathter Ampora, wwhatewa you wwish." You take on his stupid, snotty tone, along with the odd wavey accent.

The highblood shifts around on top of you, straddling your chest and pressing his nook against your chin. His already fully-unsheathed bulge traces along your cheek, probably looking for the hole it had been denied. "Good slawe. Noww, let's see if wwe can do somethin' about trainin' you to keep from biting."

Something cool drips down your neck, and you finally close your eyes behind the blindhold. You wait a few seconds, and—

Eridan shrieks and tumbles off of you when you twist your head abruptly, jamming your chin into the base of his bulge and biting his thigh hard. He continues to yell as you laugh, high and nasally in the way that you’re usually self-conscious about, but seriously, why be self-conscious when it’s _Eridan_?

“YOU STUPID FUCKIN’ NERD! I’M GOIN’ TO END YOU!”

You imagine him curled on his side, clutching his crotch like the pissant he is, and laugh harder. God, you can’t even breathe. Maybe he will end you, when you die of oxygen deprivation from laughing at his useless ass. The mattress shifting is your only warning before the cloth is jammed back in, so far down your throat that it actually is pretty hard to breathe. You offer a muffled complaint and receive an open palmed slap across the face for your troubles, his claws fully bared and opening four gashes in your cheek. You let your head be tossed to the side.

“No more nice Ampora.” His voice is flat and dark, his accent oddly absent. Without the built in comedy to his voice, you finally feel an ounce of real fear.

Despite that, and the blood running down your face and neck, you snort. You try to talk, but it’s just a muffled series of nothings. Eridan snarls and claws at your chest, then your abdomen. He moves closer and closer to your groin, and suddenly you don’t feel quite so confident. If he decides to shove that bulge of his up your nook, you’re probably going to bleed to death, and you’re going to be in a lot of pain while you’re dying.

The muffled scream of pain when his finger unapologetically jams inside is so loud that Eridan actually stops. You can feel that he ripped that stupid piece of flesh, but it isn’t bleeding yet so it can’t be that bad. You feel Eridan touching it, rubbing the pad of his finger against it, probably trying to figure out what the hell it is. You give another halfhearted protest, trying to push the cloth out again. “Wwhat the hell is that, pissblood?” The seatroll’s claw retreats, and a second later he pulls the rag out for you. You’re coughing and breathing too hard to answer, and he grabs you by the throat.

“Efferythinth in tooth.”

The pressure lessens. “…wwhat?”

You shiver, taking a deep breath before replying. “Everything’th in twoth. Even my nook. It’th been thplit like that thinth forever.” You shrug minimally, though your shoulders throb from the position. “Can I move my armth, pleathe? They’re gonna fall out or thomething.” Surprisingly, he complies without complaint, moving up and untying the fabric from what you assume is the post of the bed’s headboard. Since you probably won’t be given another freebie, you punch aimlessly and catch him in the side. He howls, so you assume you got him in the gills. Grinning wickedly, you don’t even flinch when a new slap finds your other cheek. “What’th wrong, ED? Ith your thtupidity catching up to you?”

“My supposed stupidity’s got nothin’ to do wwith your complete idiocy. I should pail you irregardless’a wwhether your nook is split all stupid like that.” The fabric is grabbed roughly, your arms yanked hard to your sides. He drags you further down the bed, forcing your arms under your knees and tying them together before you can even fight it. You’re swearing under your breath, then out loud. He unties the cloth binding your legs to the bed and you try to kick him in the face, but he just grabs your ankle and bites down hard on your lower leg.

Sparking everywhere, you smell something catch on fire again, but the other troll ignores it while he slowly and systematically binds your legs together from the knee down with what feels like some sort of repetitive knotting sequence in the space between your shins. “The fuck are you doing, ED?”

“Art. Noww shut up.”

“ED—” A smack lands near your nook and your jaw snaps shut. You can feel the smug in the air again, surrounding you with the smell of his already stifling quarters. Resigned to a choice of the fishface experimenting on you, and the fishface slapping you in the junk and gutting you, you sigh and relax for real.

This is going to be a looong day.


End file.
